


Healing wounds in Heaven Can't Wait

by PawneePorpoise



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawneePorpoise/pseuds/PawneePorpoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene I felt was missing from Season 9, Episode 6 "Heaven Can't Wait". </p>
<p>After the fight with Ephraim in Nora's house, a bloodied and slightly bruised Castiel leaves with Dean in the middle of the night. The next time we see them Dean is dropping Cas off at the Gas-N-Sip the next morning, all bandaged up and ready for work. When did Castiel get fixed up, and what did they do to pass the time the rest of the night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing wounds in Heaven Can't Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Take the Dean/Castiel relationship as you want, there's nothing in here to really lean one way or another so you're welcome to see it as friends or something more. To each their own :)
> 
> This is my first fic, so feel free to critique, I had no beta. Just an idea that stuck with me when I watched the episode again recently and I threw it together.

“Where to Cas?” 

The loaded nature of the question was lost on Dean as Castiel opened the passenger door to the Impala and sunk inside. In the wake of the Angels’ fall to Earth, an event he unwittingly helped orchestrate, Cas had found himself broken, without his grace, and asking himself just that, “Where to Cas?”.

As the words pulled themselves to the forefront of his consciousness, Cas realized he hadn’t actually answered the question, and during his time lost in thought Dean had entered the driver’s seat and was staring at him in obvious confusion. Not having an actual home outside of the Gas-N-Sip storeroom, Cas was suddenly self-conscious in telling Dean to drop him off there at this time of night. Back at the bunker when Dean had told him he couldn’t stay, he knew that if Dean was asking him to do it, it was important and he didn’t want to let him down. Had Dean known Cas had nothing to his name and no where to go, he might have been forced to feel guilty about throwing Cas out and with enough going on in the Winchester’s daily lives Cas knew he didn’t need to worry about another fallen angel getting his newly human life together. 

About the time Cas opened his mouth to say, well, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say but he was human now and he had at least learned (mostly from Dean) that humans excelled at lying. But he never got a chance to practice his new human skill because Dean had focused in on Cas’ broken bloody hand and offered,

“Let’s just go get that hand fixed up first, then I’ll drop you off at home.” 

Dean Winchester was more often than not too blunt for most people’s comfort, but in that moment Castiel offered a silent thanks to whatever was responsible for Dean choosing not to pry. So, silently they drove across town to the motel Dean had rented for his escape from boring research in the bunker with Sam and Kevin. 

As the steady hum of the engine, and the grip of the tires on the gravel below moved them closer to what Cas expected was another seedy motel, the night’s events finally caught up with him and he couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment washing over. How could he have been naive enough to think Nora was asking him out on a date? And what’s worse, he even dragged Dean into his delusion by taking his dating advice and letting him fix up his appearance.

A blush crept into his cheeks at the memory of Dean picking on him for wearing his work vest, and pushing him to open a few buttons on his shirt. Dean had looked almost proud when Cas finally passed his visual inspection in the car. In the end he wasn’t mad at Nora, how could he really be after all? It was just a simple miscommunication. But for a minute when she had shyly asked if he was free, he had to admit he felt like maybe, after all the wrong he’d been a part of as a misguided Angel he was finally succeeding in something as a normal human. He was fitting in, finding a purpose, even if it was running a convenience store in a small Idaho town.

Entrenched in thought Cas almost didn’t realize the car had stopped until he felt the slam of Dean shutting the driver’s side door. Snapping to, he climbed from the car, wincing as he absentmindedly tried moving his broken hand. Steadying himself he followed behind Dean into the motel room. 

Tossing this jacket and keys on the table by the door, Dean went right to his bag, pulling out a pack of medical supplies and then from the other pocket and well worn flask, pausing to twist off the cap and toss back a swig of what Cas was willing to bet was whiskey. Still standing in the entranceway, Cas only moved when Dean pulled out a chair at the kitchenette and with a knowing look on his face said simply, 

“Sit.” 

Shuffling over and dropping himself lazily down in the chair, instinctively Cas kept his injured limb sheltered in his lap. Pulling the other chair around until he was seated directly facing Castiel, Dean patted the table, signaling he wanted Cas to lay his hand out in front of him so the inspection of his wound could begin. As Dean rummaged through the first aid kit Cas gingerly laid his hand out daring a glance at Dean’s face expecting to see the calm determination so often painted there. Even though Dean was concentrating on pulling out all the necessary supplies Cas noticed something else in his subtleties that was not what he expected. 

Jaw set, brow ever so slightly furrowed, and mouth sinking down slightly in the corners, Dean wore a look that feigned annoyance to the untrained eye. But to those few who had spent enough time around Dean to know him during his most trying of times Cas recognized this expression to mean concern. In realizing Dean was worrying about him, Cas’ initial reaction was to try not to let on exactly how much pain he was feeling so obviously then Dean wouldn’t feel the need to worry about him anymore. Without really thinking his plan through, Cas blurted out,

“The pain isn’t really so bad, Dean”, while trying to pull his hand back into his lap. 

Applying the slightest pressure to where his hand rested on Cas’ arm, Dean held Cas’ hand in place against the withdrawal while surveying all the supplies laid out on the table before him. When his eyes focused on the flask, he released his grip on the limb confident Cas got the memo and wasn’t going anywhere, and he picked up the metal container, unscrewing the cap tilting the vessel to his lips. After what was definitely at least a full shot worth of whiskey, he brought it down, meeting Cas’ gaze, and Cas knew Dean saw through his ploy to play down his physical, and emotional turmoil. Dean extended the drink out before him a sarcastic smirk playing across his features,

“Well, Cas, have a drink anyway, because I guarantee cleaning this mess up is not going to be pleasant.” 

Resigned to the reality of needing to go through this first aid procedure, Cas reached up with his good hand and slowly brought the flask to his lips. The smell of the whiskey hit him before the taste,   
‘I knew it was going to be whiskey’, he thought, and a small smile almost crept up his mouth. He realized as he was taking his first sip that he hadn’t had any alcohol since becoming human and found it fitting his first truly drink was at Dean’s goading. How the man still had a functioning liver was beyond him. Dean was still watching him, apparently feeling the need to visually ensure the drink made it into his system and as Cas went to hand the flask back, Dean held out a hand to stop him. 

“Nah, you should probably hold on to that for now,” and then with a sigh, a quick snap of his elbows and crack of his neck “Alright Cas, let’s get this over with.” 

Picking up a bottle of peroxide, Dean poured some on a small cotton pad before taking a deep breath and diving in. When the pad hit the open gashes from the rose stems Cas couldn’t hold back the sharp intake of breath as burning pain snaked it's way through his arm. Squeezing his eyes shut at the stinging Cas heard Dean mumble a tiny,

“Sorry man”, before continuing with another few rounds of disinfectant. 

 

After a few more scorching minutes and even more sips from the flask, it seemed the bulk of the initial pain had stopped and Cas opened his eyes to inspect his bruised hand. No wonder it hurt so much. With the excess blood wiped away it was good to see he was left with only minor surface cuts which aside from burning like Hell wouldn’t even need stitches. That wasn’t the cause for most of the pain though he suspected as the bulk of his hand was swollen to at least twice its normal size and the two outermost fingers were definitely not supposed to be bent in that direction. 

Dean had taken a moment to let Cas inspect his work, grabbing the flask back and drinking gratefully, but was now Dean was ready to get this patch job finished up and picked up a couple of splints and some bandages. In what Cas realized was an effort to distract him during what was sure to be the most painful part, Dean took to small talk.

“Hey Cas, man, sorry your night didn’t go off exactly as planned. But hey, it’s still better luck than I’ve had with a date in years.”

Cas chuckled at that but was interrupted by blinding pain as Dean had grasped Cas’ wrist pressing it gently but firmly back into alignment, a sickening crunch echoing through the motel room. Groaning through clenched teeth Cas, doubled forward but kept his hand in place on the table. Dean decided to continue the conversation as if nothing had happened and that left Cas wondering how many times Dean had done this same procedure on Sam over the years because he seemed just a little too comfortable with the process. 

“But hey, maybe it's a sign or something. You’re meant for bigger things on Earth than running a convenience store don’tcha think?” 

Before Cas could answer, another crunch as Dean popped Cas’ fingers back in line and went to taping them up with the splint. 

Grimacing, Cas straightened up, taking a deep breath before saying, 

“Like I told you Dean, I have a purpose now. After the fall I was… I- I didn’t know where I belonged anymore. My grace was ripped out, I was weak, broken apart Dean…” Taking a second to maintain his composure as the whiskey warmed in his stomach, Cas continued, “In all my time in existence I’d always had a mission, a purpose, even if I questioned it, eventually I found greater goods to believe in with people I could really rely on.” 

Dean was meeting Cas’ stare now. Green orbs focused intently on blue, caught off guard by the seriousness of Cas’ response to his playful question. “But now Dean, even though I may not have any power, or even basic comforts like a place to call home, with this job I have responsibilities again. People rely on me. Good people. They...they need me there. To do my job.” 

Cas found himself trailing off at that last part. He left himself get a little carried away. Must be the looseness he was feeling from the whiskey, or maybe he was delusional from the pain of his broken bones. Dean was still staring at him a few moments later and Cas knew he was probably trying to find the right words as ‘chick flick moments’, Dean’s words not his, were not something Dean shared often. After a few seconds though all Dean managed to get out was - 

“Wait Cas, you’re actually homeless? Like not even a motel or something?” 

Maybe it was the leftover physical pain from his hand, or the words Ephraim said to him earlier that he couldn’t quite get out of his mind, or maybe it was just the familiarity of being in the company of a friend who showed concern for him, but for whatever reason he still isn't sure of, Cas could do nothing in that moment but drop his head in silent shame, eyes squeezing shut against the early burn of tears suddenly springing forth. Everything just felt so overwhelming all of a sudden. Sure, Ephraim was right, he’d been in emotional distress. Not quite to the point of wanting to die as the rogue angel suspected, but just hearing the surprise and worry laced in Dean’s voice and seeing the look of pity in his eyes Cas couldn’t keep up his facade any longer. The dam broke and Cas let out a breath he was only half aware he was even holding in, except it came out sounding a lot like a half choked sob. After that only a tear or two fell before he realized Dean was still sitting there, probably staring at him and he had to cut this out before he made him uncomfortable. But just as Cas was about to straighten up, game face back on, suddenly Dean rose from his chair. 

‘Great,’ Cas thought, ‘I freaked him out by getting emotional about this.’ At that point Cas was fine with thanking Dean for the first aid and walking back to the gas station by himself. 

“Cas, come here,” in that firm but gentle voice Cas had only heard Dean use on Sam when he was pushing for something he really believed in. And the sound of Dean’s voice directed at him snapped Cas back from his inner panic. 

Looking up through eyes filled with unshed tears there stood a blurry Dean in front of him, arms ever so slightly outstretched, a gesture that would be easy to miss in it’s subtlety but Cas recognized immediately. In that moment Cas realized he hadn’t shocked Dean away with his vulnerabilities and in an act of pure human vulnerability Cas stood abruptly and embraced his closest friend, absorbing the comfort he was so willingly being given. 

At first the hug they shared struck Cas as nothing unusual. Keeping a reasonable distance between their bodies, Dean gave him a firm yet reassuring pat on the shoulder, but when Cas knew Dean was about to pull away the selfishly human part of him couldn’t part with the warm closeness of the embrace. He was needy right now in his emotionally distressed state and it had been so long since another person, human or angel, allowed him to be this close. So instead of relaxing his grip, he held Dean tighter and took the smallest half step closer, bringing their bodies fully together. Cas could feel Dean’s entire frame tense up, but after a moment that felt like it went on forever, he actually relaxed into it and returned the grip Cas had on his torso. Not a word was said and as a few more tears slipped past Cas’ lashed and onto Dean’s shirt and then Dean did another surprising thing. Dean let Cas stay just like that, held tight in the warmth of his arms, head nestled in the crook between Dean’s jaw and shoulder. All the while pressing small circles into Cas’ back with the palm of his hand and at least once that Cas was aware of Dean even hummed something that sounded like,  
“Cas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you leave the bunker,” and “Cas, it’ll be alright. I’m here if you ever need me.”

Cas still isn't sure how long they stood like that, but at some point after his initial grief had melted out of him he began to feel so drowsy he’s pretty sure he actually dozed off standing up, breathing in sync with the rise and fall of Dean’s chest. 

The next conscious moment he had, Cas wasn’t standing anymore, he was in a bed, fully dressed, except for his boots and the bed was moving. It took a few extra seconds of confusion to realize it wasn’t actually the bed moving at all, it was the body he was lying across. And even a few more confused seconds after that he realized that body was Dean, also fully clothed, minus his boots but still sound asleep. Suddenly the warmth under his face made sense. He was nestled up in the crook of Dean’s arm, lying on his side, curled against Dean’s body as he slept soundly, chest steadily rising and falling under Cas’ cheek. 

When did he even fall asleep? What time was it? How did he get into the bed without remembering? Did Dean carry him here? Was he really that tired last night? Where are his boots? Did Dean try waking him up? Was there really only one bed in this room?

The initial flood of questions hitting his sleep fogged brain was overwhelming and he almost sprung up out of bed as the sheer panic of the situation, but decided instead to take a deep breath and wait for Dean to wake up. Because who knew how much sleep he had gotten lately and it wouldn’t be fair for Cas to deny him of even a minute of rest after how helpful he had been last night. Last night...the display of comfort and compassion wasn’t something Cas had ever expected from Dean, especially directed at himself. Sure they were close friends, had known each other for years and with everything they’d been through fighting shoulder to shoulder against the end of the world, Cas was pretty sure he felt comfortable saying he even loved Dean, though Dean was the kind of guy to admit to feelings like compassion or love out loud...well, never. But while Cas was sure that Dean would die for him if necessary he still wouldn’t have looked to him for this sort of open comfort in the aftermath of defeat. 

Contentedly, Cas laid in that bed, breathing in the scent of Dean’s skin, fingers splayed across ribs as the steady drum of heartbeat in this ear and soft breath winding across the top of his head at each fall of Dean’s chest eventually drowned out the thoughts of doubt and insecurity he was thinking. Cas became aware Dean was waking up before he moved, as the heartbeat under his ear increased in frequency. Bracing himself for the jump Dean was sure to make when the shock set in of where he was and who was laying on him, Cas squeezed his eyes shut and tensed ever so slightly. In another surprising turn of events whether it was sleep induced confusion or another force at work, upon feeling the apprehension rolling off the body next to him, Dean actually pulled Cas closer, encircling him in both arms firmly before whispering in his deeper than usual, sleep fogged voice, 

“Hey Cas... you awake?”

“Yes, Dean” Cas replied, impressed by the evenness of his own tone despite the nervous energy building inside of him. So Dean was actually aware it was Cas lying next to him and yet neither of them attempted to move yet.

“You feeling alright, Cas?” came the voice from above his head. “Last night you seemed, -”

“Thank you Dean” Cas interjected quickly, “I just - I needed some rest. I am alright now.” and with that, before they were forced into any awkward conversation about their sleeping arrangements Cas gently broke the hold of Dean’s arms and slid out across the bed swinging around to hang his feet off the side and onto the floor. As he ran a hand through his bed mussed hair, Cas felt Dean shift behind him, 

“That’s good”, before the weight lifted off the mattress entirely and Dean trotted off to the bathroom. 

As the sound of the sink running filtered out from behind the closed door, Cas inspected his broken hand. Dean had cleaned it up well last night, some of the swelling had gone down and none of the cuts seemed infected. Taking the time and proper precautions to fully heal from an injury was so far Cas’ least favorite thing about being human. That and having to urinate every few hours that is. He didn’t know how humans were so alright with such a monotonous chore. He took the rest of the time Dean was cleaning up to put on his boots, which he found discarded a few feet from the bottom of the bed and by the time Dean had finished brushing his teeth Cas had fully collected himself again and stood in the kitchenette area. 

Dean emerged from the bathroom apparently after fixing up his hair Cas realized as he turned to face Dean and was greeted with the soft peaks artfully sculpted atop his friend’s head. Where Cas knew his own hair was always messy, Dean’s was somehow always arranged just so, which now being human and understanding how much time these things took, he appreciated the effort Dean must have gone through every day to achieve that look all the more. Walking to the table, Dean grabbed his jacket and keys, slipping on his boots, repeating his question from the night before as if it had only been moments ago, 

“Where to Cas?”, though this time with a slight upward tilt in the corners of his mouth. Blue eyes meeting green, well rested, Cas felt confident once again in his purpose. 

“To the Gas-N-Sip. I have the opening shift this morning.” And without question or complaint Dean drove him across town, rolling to a stop outside the doors to the gas station. Shutting off the engine Dean took a deep breath, Cas knew him well enough to know something was weighing on him. 

“Listen Cas, back at the bunker, I ...um, sorry I told you to go.” Dean wasn’t looking at him when he spoke so Cas didn’t hide the look of sympathy on his face. He wasn’t sure exactly what Dean was dealing with but he saw it was difficult for him. Dean continued, “I know it's been hard on you, on your own. You’re adapting, I’m proud of you”, Dean finished, glancing up, a genuine smile creeping into Dean’s features. Cas knew he meant it, and those words warmed him more than Dean’s body had hugging him close last night. 

With a sneaking smile of his own, Cas looked over at Dean,

“Thank you Dean.” 

Then an intake of breath that Dean also surely recognized meant something serious was coming next, “But there’s something Ephraim said. The angels, they need help. Can I really sit this out? Shouldn’t I be searching for a way to get them home?“ As concern worked its way back into Cas’ brow he looked over at Dean, whose face remained confident. The patented Dean Winchester look of determination stared back at Cas, and Dean said calmly, 

“Me and Sam will take care of the angels. You’re human now, that’s not your problem anymore.” And though Dean finished that thought with a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, Cas just couldn't bring himself to return the gesture. 

Reaching for the door handle, look of resolution on his face, Cas left the car, shutting the door behind him. Before he could bring himself to walk away however, he turned around and leaned forward to greet Dean through the open window. The kindness in those green eyes staring back at him was too much and with both of them seemingly at a loss for the right words, having never actually discussed their previous night’s sleeping arrangements, Dean offered a small wave and a half smile. Waving back, knowing the unspoken words between them were all the explanation Cas needed, he held Dean’s gaze for a second longer before straightening up and walking away from the car to begin work. As the engine started up again in the Impala and Cas headed inside the Gas-N-Sip, drifting through his morning routine, Dean’s words continued playing over in his head.

“Me and Sam will take care of the angels….It's not your problem anymore.”

Flicking on the TV, the news was reporting on the weeks ago meteor shower Cas knew to be his brothers and sisters falling to Earth. Turning on the open sign in the convenience store window, he stared at the morning sky outside. Maybe Dean was right, him and Sam would try to take care of the angels where they could but Cas couldn’t sit idly now that he felt more attuned to all his family’s suffering. It would take some time and he had no idea where to start, but Cas knew Heaven needed help. And if he learned nothing else from Dean, he knew well enough the guilt he was feeling right now at having been involved in the closing of Heaven was more than enough to spur him into action. His family needed a way back home so he had to at least try because if nothing else was certain, when it came to fixing his past mistakes, Heaven can’t wait.


End file.
